


Impressions

by Fumm95



Series: The Best of Me (Clarmont/Morgaine) [1]
Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Introspection, Oblivious, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23985562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fumm95/pseuds/Fumm95
Summary: He had been a shadowy figure in her mind, but now... Now he is anything but that.Lady Morgaine's impressions of Lord Clarmont have changed after meeting him in person.
Relationships: Clarmont/Revaire Widow
Series: The Best of Me (Clarmont/Morgaine) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729444
Kudos: 4





	Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Lady Morgaine is a result of me deciding I wanted to make a Widow with a horrible backstory, as well as a selfish, immoral Widow who was at the Summit in part to investigate Lord Clarmont as a part of the Revairan rebellion, only to fall in love with him. And because of who I am as a person, she has taken control of my muse and now I'm writing fic for them.

There were a few things that Lady Morgaine, Dowager Baroness Namaire, knew to be true regarding Lord Clarmont of Revaire.

She knew that despite his favor with the royal family, he had a reputation for being a recluse at court, hardly showing up for social functions, at least in the year that she had been there. She knew through… organizing her now late husband’s correspondence that there were darker forces at play within the power struggles of the kingdom, forces in which the lord more than likely had his own involvement. She had seen and heard enough in the past two weeks to know that he had additional interests, that the same plots which swirled around the Revairan throne existed too at the Summit, with him in their midst.

She knew that Lord Clarmont was dangerous, that his conspiracy threatened the carefully constructed position that she had given up so much to achieve for herself. He was a threat in every sense of the word, to her and to her position and goals.

He was also nothing like she would have expected from the shadowy figure who haunted the Crown with the quiet threats of revolution. Quiet and controlled though he may have been, he was also oddly trusting and disarmingly sincere, a combination that could no doubt win him allies, but also allowed individuals with less savory ideals, individuals like her, to infiltrate his defenses and gain access to his thoughts. A handful of blithe lies, some basic observational skills, a smile or two at just the right time, and the man had turned into putty in her capable hands.

It would almost have been disappointing if it weren’t so convenient.

Then again, there was something to be said for the fact that at least _something_ had gone right in the past two weeks. It was one thing to be dismissed so summarily by the Matchmaker—that, at least, she could and would prove the woman wrong on—but between the sheer audacity of someone to attempt to blackmail her on the Isle and what was likely a separate attempt to kill her by way of out of control horse, one that she was beginning to suspect was set up by the daughter of the very family she was supporting through her investigations…

Gritting her teeth at the sudden wave of anger that swept, fiery hot, through her veins, she marched out of the castle. There were too many _people_ inside, too much conversation and general noise, between the bustle of servants and the chatter of the other delegates, apparently intent on spilling all of their secrets to others under the foolish guise of friendship, under that naive concept of trust. Instead, she found herself crossing the grass, moving with so much fierce intent that a figure she belatedly recognized as Earl Emmett leapt out of her path without so much as a greeting.

Not that she was in the mood to offer him much of one in the first place.

It was not until she had made her way into the gardens that she slowed, feeling her body relax as the sounds and sights of the castle disappeared, replaced by hedges and flowerbeds that shone in brilliant colors, some of which she had never seen before, in her small corner of Revaire. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that she was alone, far from the pressures of the Summit and the threats to her livelihood and…

“Lady Morgaine?”

She froze, the voice ringing out already familiar after just the scant week and a half. Naturally, if anyone had to be within range, it was _him_. For a moment, she contemplated turning around, disappearing into the shadows and retreating to her room, far from the expectations of her fellow delegates, but she set her mouth, forcing her limbs into stillness.

She had already done more than her fair share of running in the past years. She would do so no longer.

Instead plastering her most charming smile on her face, she turned, dropping into a proper curtsy. “Why, Lord Clarmont! Good day.” She glanced at the direction from whence he came, towards the hedges which rose easily above her head in a labyrinth, and raised an eyebrow. “Are you lost?”

As she expected, any hint of suspicion disappeared from his face faster than the sun in the bitterest Revairan winter, and he laughed, the sound natural and strangely pleasant. “Do you have so little faith in me that you presume I would get hopelessly lost so close to the entrance, as poetic as that might be?”

She let her eyes widen in a show of innocence. “Not at all, my lord. Only inquiring as to the success in your presumed endeavors.”

“A most pretty way of saying the same thing, I see, but I fear you have made one error in your inquiry.” For a second, she froze, cursing her glib slip of the tongue, before schooling her face into appropriate curiosity, but if he noticed, he gave no sign, instead only chuckling. “You supposed I might answer truthfully though it would be most unbecoming to admit anything but success before as magnificent a lady as yourself.”

In spite of herself, she could feel her body relaxing as she smiled back, this time with all the sincerity that her previous expression lacked. “False flattery, while always appreciated, will not serve to distract me from your lack of answer.”

His eyes seemed to dance as he bowed at her, offering an arm. “Then I suppose I have nothing to it but to prove myself directly, if you are amenable to the offer of an escort.”

She hesitated, taking the time to examine him until he grinned down at her, expression openly boyish. “Unless you would prove your stated faith in myself, not to mention your faith in your own navigational skills, false?”

Reluctantly amused, she dropped into another curtsy, this time in a facsimile of propriety. “Then how can I refuse such a challenge? I suppose I will simply have to thank you kindly, Lord Clarmont.”

It only occurred to her later that, though she learned nothing new from the endeavor, she could not find it in herself to consider the hour spent exploring the gardens a waste of time.


End file.
